listening to the city erect boundaries
and all through the destruction,
we guessed when these machines would operate by themselves,
then the road called out to us (as it often did those days)
thumbs out, a marine from Quantico pulled over
bare foot stomping the gas pedal,
and who were we to refuse honesty,
listening that afternoon to his war stories,
Lt. Calley deserved a Medal of Honor!
the soldier dropped us in New Haven
where we browsed leather boutique shops,
later crashing rock and roll Yale dorm rooms,
peeking into the vortex of gathering New England clouds
later, our fingers and tongues so anxiously
climbing into and out of each other,
we left the coeds gawking aloud,
wondering who where the real children
and who were the babysitters
that night during the debate: "we're Protestant, yet Catholic",
the audience was informed
Christian rainstorms frequent more regularly than Jewish baths,
yet with immaculate water so scarce
we only sat scratching each other's backs
before heading for Washington Square